


Towards Tomorrow

by Asphyxiation (cat_in_my_hat)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Iwaizumi owns a bookstore, M/M, Oikawa is doing the volleyball, Self-Indulgent, doing the mating dance of their people???, flirting???, idk man, so cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_in_my_hat/pseuds/Asphyxiation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is having a bad day. Then he meets Sugawara Koushi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towards Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man enjoy

**__** __

Hajime had a friend once who was suppositious. They used to tell him about some crazy shit that he never really listened to, but now, leaning against the counter of his book store, he recalls this one saying – _What can go wrong, will go wrong_ – and thinks of it as describing how his day went to a _T_.

Basically: Hajime’s day has gone to shit.

It’s a series of small things that get to him – his mother calling him to tell him that she can’t see him over the holiday break, the electricity not working in his apartment so he can’t make coffee and he can’t _buy_ coffee because he’s broke. Seeing his best friend of eighteen-plus-years and ex-boyfriend of four years on TV; coming to work and finding nothing has been done correctly and having to do stock take _again_ on top of his only full-time worker giving in his two weeks’ notice out of fucking nowhere.

Which leaves him here; three hours after closing time, lonely, hungry and emotionally ready to kill someone (namely, his vicarious ex who can’t seem to get out of his life).

He taps his pen idly against the records, trying not get overwhelmed by the numbers on the page that just don’t make sense to him right now. Scratching a hand through his hair, he puts the pen down, sighs loudly, and listens to the downpour outside; he’s always found the rain soothing, but today it just intensifies his misery threefold. He’s been told that he’s a masochist, though, so he watches as it falls in clumps from the awning that surrounds his shop, and he thinks that he probably won’t make it home tonight.

He’s ready to give into his fate of living off of the cheap coffee and biscuits that he has in the storeroom for the night when he spots a figure approaching from the side of his shop. He watches the person – who looks somewhat familiar, for some reason – as they approach the bus stop that’s made up of a sign and a shitty little bench that’s most definitely soaked. They’re wearing nothing but a tee shirt and some jogging shorts, and stand under the awning of his shop, shaking slightly.

Oikawa always said that he had a mother-hen type of hero complex. He always said it like it was a bad thing. And, maybe it is. Maybe Hajime is a little bit stifling. Maybe he cares too much about – well. Everyone. But. ( _But at least I’m not an asshole,_ he’d reply, and his heart hurts because Oikawa would then smile at him like he was the centre of the universe and – it hurts, even a year later, _Oikawa_ _hurts_ ).

He shakes the thought, and grabs the jacket Lev left behind, before heading to the door. When he gets closer, the familiarity of the person intensifies, as his white hair and the barest hint of a mole on the side of his eye comes into view.

“Oi,” he calls, getting the guys attention, “Do you want this?” and he shakes the jacket in his hand for emphasis.

 The guy turns towards him slightly and, yeah, okay, Hajime has always had a thing for pretty boys (just look at his track record – Oikawa is the epitome of pretty boy), but this guy takes it to a whole new level. Soft white hair, wide brown eyes and a kind disposition to his face that melts Hajime’s heart a little.

And – _oh_. Hajime _does_ know this guy; it’s Karasuno number two (aka Iwaizumi Hajime’s gay awakening. Or. That’s what Oikawa called him anyway). He looks sightly worse for wear, since the last time Iwaizumi saw him. There are stress lines on his forehead and a tiny downturn to his mouth that wasn’t there before. The doleful expression is gone as soon as Hajime sees it anyway, and the guy – man, really – lights up with recognition.

“Hey – um,” Karasuno starts, gazing at Hajime through thick lashes, “You look really familiar – do I know you?”

Hajime tries not to feel flustered and fails epically, “Uh, yeah? I went to Aoba Johsai. I think we played against each other a few times.” (There’s a voice in his head that claps him for playing it cool – Karasuno number two was the first guy Hajime ever looked at and thought _damn_ and being able not to come off as creepy as he could is an achievement).

Karasuno grins, and there’s a mischief to it that intrigues Hajime, “Ah, now I remember. You were their ace. Iwaizumi-san, right?”

Hajime laughs, surprised, “You remember my name? I didn’t think I was that memorable.”

“Of course I’d remember someone as attractive as you, Iwaizumi-san,” Suga says, blinking innocently, and it startles Hajime so much that he – doesn’t really know how to respond to something so direct, like that.

A silence falls over the two of them – as Hajime has a crisis over how to reply – _if_ he should reply, because there’s this whole _I-think-more-about-my-ex-than-I-do-anything-else_ problem that he has and he doesn’t even know if Karasuno is being serious or if he’s just teasing and – Hajime can’t deal with this type of social stress. That was always Oikawa’s job. (And – there he is, _again_. Fucking hell, Hajime needs to get him back or get him out and neither is a viable option).

While he’s freaking out on the inside, Karasuno coughs, seemingly angry at – _something_ , “Sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I – it’s a bad habit. Sorry.”

Hajime doesn’t know what exactly it is that he means by _bad habit_ , but he isn’t sure he wants to, so he just waves it off, “No, no. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He gestures to the jacket still clutched in his hands, “You want this? It’s a little cold out here, and you’re wearing next to nothing.”

Karasuno smile gratefully, “Ah, thank you, Iwaizumi-san.”

“It’s just Iwaizumi. And you are...?” Hajime asks, sheepish, because he’s always had a shitty memory for names, and he doesn’t want Karasuno to think that – well. That Hajime never noticed him. Because he did. A lot.

“Sugawara Koushi,” he replies, looking even cuter in a jacket three sizes too big, “But you can just call me Suga.”

“Suga,” Hajime tests, and there’s a pause in their conversation, slightly, and Hajime hesitates before asking, “Hey, um. The next bus isn’t going to come for another hour. Did you – did you want to come inside for some coffee?”

Suga absolutely lights up at the suggestion, “Oh gods, yes.”

Hajime’s heart betrays how nervous he is, as it hammers against his ribcage. He feels Suga’s presence behind him acutely, and he can’t say he likes the feeling. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. It’s just Suga (the little voice in his head laughs at him, and it sounds like Oikawa, offensively so) that he’s leading through his homely little shop.

“Do you own this place?” Suga asks when Hajime sits him down in one of the stools behind the counter.

“Yeah,” he replies, hurriedly shuffling the mess out of the way, “When my dad passed away, I got full ownership.”

“Eh,” Suga says, “Sorry about your loss!”

Hajime laughs at him, walking into the backroom – which is more of a closet than anything else – and pulling out two mugs. He calls back to Suga, “Don’t worry about it. It happened ages ago. Any milk or sugar?”

“Ah, just some sugar, please. Were you not close? To your father, I mean?”

With the water boiling, Hajime goes back to the main floor, scratching the hair on the back of his neck, “Not really. He and mum split when I was pretty young and he moved out here to Tokyo, so I didn’t see him much. I was actually pretty shocked when he left this place to me.”

“So you’re a mother’s boy? Never pegged you as one,” Suga teases, and it’s on reflex alone that Hajime reaches over to gently tug at Suga’s ear. It’s only when Suga looks at him with a pout that Hajime realises that Suga is, for all intents and purposes, a _stranger_.  But – there’s an ease to his nerves that he hasn’t felt in a long time, and talking to Suga is _easy_ , easy in a way that Hajime never imagined it would be.

“Shut up,” he says, softly, glad when the kettle beeped so that he didn’t have to look at the soft curve of Suga’s bottom lip from where he was tugging on it with his teeth. It’s from the safety of the backroom that Hajime calls, “Enough about me, anyway. What have you been up to since high school?”

He hears Suga shuffle around for a second before he replies, “You know, the same old, same old. Went to university, started working. All that fun stuff.”

Hajime raises his eyebrows, “What’d you study?”

“Accounting.” And he sounds much closer that before. Hajime turns around and sees Suga standing in the backroom door way, looking ethereal, white hair haloed by the white artificial lighting of the main room. “But – ah. I didn’t really enjoy it.”

“No?” Hajime pushes – even though he knows he shouldn’t. He, again, has to remind himself that he doesn’t really know Suga, even as he hands him a chipped mug and grins at him encouragingly.

Suga laughs, but without much humour, and clutches the coffee mug closer to his chest, “Actually, if I’m being honest, I absolutely fucking hated it. So much.”

Hajime laughs at the pinched expression on Suga’s face, trying to resist the urge to soothe out the lines between his brows. Suga just glares at him playfully, “I’m being serious, you know. I just handed in my resignation.”

“Let me guess – it felt great?”

Suga laughs with him this time, pushing his hair out of his face, “It felt fucking awesome.”

It’s now that Hajime notices how closely they’re pressed together – if Hajime reached around, they’d be embracing, touching chest to chest, with their legs tangled. As it is, Suga’s tucked into his side, close enough that his hair would tickle his nose if he turned the right way. The way Suga’s cheeks flush red, from either the cold or whatever it is that they’re laughing at makes Hajime’s heart beat fast and he’s saying words before he can really stop himself –

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school,” he blurts, regretting his life choices almost immediately and cursing his decision to get out of bed this morning – he should have crawled back into his bed and watched Netflix all day _goddammit this is why he didn’t have a love life_ -

Suga is just as flustered as he is, obviously, but he says, “Oh, good. If it makes you feel any better, I had a gay crisis over your biceps.”

Hajime’s obviously dreaming, because there is _no way_ Sugawara Koushi, Karasuno number two (aka Iwaizumi Hajime’s gay awakening) just said that, “My biceps?”

Suga nods thoughtfully, gazing at the objects in question, “Yeah. You, uh, had some really nice arms.” He reaches a hand over tentatively; running his cold fingers over Hajime’s clothed bicep, “You _have_ some really nice arms.”

“Thank you,” Hajime coughs, thankful for the shitty lighting because his face is surely red by now. He takes a sip of his coffee to stop himself from saying anything stupid again.

Suga just chuckles, “Well, I’m sure Oikawa tells you that all the time, though.”

And Hajime promptly chokes because – despite the fact that his mind is in a constant loop of _I-love-him-I-hate-him_ no one has actually _mentioned_ Oikawa since they split and hearing his name out loud squeezes the air from his lungs somewhat.

“Oikawa?” he huffs, wiping his sleeve against his mouth, making sure that he has nothing embarrassing o his face.

Suga just studies him, and there’s something analytical in his gaze that pushes Hajime even more off-kilter, “Oikawa. I was always under the assumption that you two were together.”

Hajime places his cup down, and crosses his arms across his chest, “No, no, no. Well. We were, but that was ages ago.”

Suga is still eyeing him wearily, “Did you not work out or something?”

Hajime winces – this isn’t something he talks to anyone about, let alone this cute, funny man that Hajime wants to kiss really badly, but he knows Suga isn’t going to drop the subject easily. So he says, “I.....well. We wanted different things. I wanted to settle down. Oikawa wanted – whatever the fuck he wanted. We got into a bad fight about it. A _really_ bad fight.”

Suga rubs his arm soothingly, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Hajime swallows the ball of emotions in his throat hastily, before shaking his head, “It’s okay. I’m over it now, but it sucks not having him around, you know? He was my best friend for years. Even if he had a shitty personality.”

“Maybe you should give him a call,” Suga says, and Hajime doesn’t miss the way his hand rests on his arm, grabbing onto the fabric of his sweatshirt, “You guys could work it out. Become friends again.”

And – that had never occurred to him. Because he has his pride, but Oikawa had even more. If someone was going to break this radio silence, it was going to be him. Even if Oikawa is off gallivanting around the globe playing volleyball for the under twenty five Japan team, Hajime misses him dearly – not romantically, (mostly), but just the eighteen-plus years of comfortable friendship – and no amount of space between them should stop Hajime from chasing him down and forcing affection down his throat.

“Maybe I will,” Hajime murmurs, coming closer to Suga so that they’re pressed together from chest to toe, and he smirks at him, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’re grabbing my arm there, Suga,” he chuckles.

Suga pouts, but his eyes gleam mischievously, and he squeezes the muscles of his arm in emphasis, “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

Hajime just laughs, pulling away from Suga and heading towards the main floor. He grabs his phone and checks the time, “Hey, the next bus is gonna be here soon.”

Suga twirls a piece of his silvery hair around his index finger and frowns, “I should get going, then.”

Hajime’s stomach drops in disappointment, but he nods in agreement. “I’ll wait with you outside.”

“Thank you,” Suga says softly when they exit the store, “For the coffee.”

Hajime just shrugs, feeling awkward all of a sudden. The air outside is harsh and he watches Suga wrap himself up in the borrowed jacket and he silently apologizes to Lev for giving away his stuff.

“Iwaizumi?” Suga says, when he sees the bus approaching from around the corner. Hajime turns to look at him, expression questioning, when Suga reaches up to press his lips again Hajime’s gently. The kiss lingers; the soft texture of Suga’s mouth and the burning cold of his fingers where they burn into his skin.

Suga pulls away juts as the bus stops in front of them and tells him, “I’ll come by tomorrow. You already know how I like my coffee.”

And – he’s gone. Hajime sees him waving enthusiastically from the window seat on the bus and Hajime lifts two fingers in farewell, feeling a little bit struck by the pace in which they’re moving but – it’s okay. Hajime is okay with this. (More than okay. Definitely more than okay).

It’s not until he’s back in the warmth of his store does he pull out his phone and dial a number he hasn’t used in over a year and –

“....Hello?” Oikawa says tentatively over the line.

“Okay, Shittykawa,” Hajime starts, smiling when Oikawa whines at the old nickname and ignoring the frantic beating of his heart, “We have to have a talk.”

 

~ Fin

**Author's Note:**

> idk man i hope you enjoyed


End file.
